


Interplanetary Exchange

by Sapphire_sky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blood, Earth and Alternia, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Shipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_sky/pseuds/Sapphire_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve Alternians attend a school on Earth. Shipping and shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He was slamming your head into someone’s locker, grinning like the high bastard he was. Gamzee was your moirail for a while, but… things happened, and now you just sort of platonically hate each other? You know better than to resist, but your instincts scream at you to give him a punch for each he gives you. After the clown finishes, you fall to your knees, covering your mouth with your forearm.  
Makes it so you can cough up blood without anyone seeing the color. You’ve had enough experience to know that the trick works, but you haven’t found a good way to cover up the cherry red bruises that appear on your arms and face and abdomen.  
Your last class of the day had been let out at least an hour before, and teachers didn’t give two shits about what students did to each other after the day ended. Human schools sure were fucking stupid. Your head was pounding, and it hurt like hell. And you still had to walk home after this. How wonderful that will be. You attempt to stand, but just fall to your knees again. Makara must have halved his sopor slime consumption for the day.  
Your blood got on some kid’s locker, so you know that you’ll have to clean that up eventually. If your blood was any other color, you wouldn’t have bothered, but, as a mutant, you couldn’t risk sharing your blood color with anyone. Look where it had gotten you with Gamzee. Someone was approaching, but you had no strength to speak or move.  
“What the fuck happened to you?” You look up, unable to keep your eyes fully focused. The figure was human and male, with pale shades and aviators. You’d seen him around for the past few months, but thought nothing of it. He was one of the cliche fucking cool kids in human television. Strider. Why the fuck was he talking to you? You turn your head away, hoping the human would just leave. Unfortunately, you aren’t that lucky. “Bro, you’re bleeding all over my locker. I have rights, you know.”  
“Yeah, well so do I,” you scoff, glaring into the black abyss of the human’s shades. “Whatever. You do look like hell, though,” Strider reached into his pocket, tossing a pack of tissues your way. You catch the little plastic package. “Clean yourself up a bit.”  
You do so, making sure to clean the hideous beige lockers off afterwards. Pulling your sweater down to cover the bruises on your wrists, you walk back to your hive, stopping every ten yards to let your eyes adjust. Your evening proceeds as usual after you arrive. Crabdad of course helped patch you up further, though.  
You wake up the next morning and immediately check for visible bruises. Luckily, all you had could be easily concealed with the help of an oversized sweater. You slip one on, carefully avoiding nubby horns. Thank gog for Fridays. Only one more day of abnormal sleep schedules and unfortunate encounters. You make sure to leave a few minutes late, not wanting to run into anyone on your walk to the brick hell of a building you’re required to visit five times a week.  
You arrive right on time, jamming your shit into locker 612 before walking, head down, do your first class. As usual, it’s boring as fuck, and so are the rest of your classes. Then comes the wonderful time right after the last bell rings. Immediately after you leave the room, a certain indigo-blood pushes you into the wall, letting his claws extract pinpricks of blood from your neck.  
Apparently it’s that time of day. Fucking wonderful. The juggalo just grinned, digging the sharp edges further into your skin. You debate fighting back, but, as you know, Makara is many blood levels above you, making him stronger than you’ll ever be. Nevertheless, you manage to draw blood on his arms. Gamzee looks down at the purple liquid, which had by then dripped onto the white tile floor.  
The other troll simply keeps grinning, leaving deep cuts on your stomach and pinning you the wall by your wrists. Perhaps the highblood had black feelings for you after all, but you had no time to ponder that now. You needed to get out of the clown’s grip. The building was totally empty, save you, a few teachers, and the pale-haired student tapping Gamzee’s shoulder.  
Your thinkpan gave up processing things a while ago. You hear voices, but deciphering what they say proves to be far too much of a challenge. After a few words, Makara releases you, walking away with a few of those human cigarettes in his grasp.  
You pull your sweater down, blink as your hand comes back cherry red. All you can manage to get out is a pathetically weak “f-fuck,” before you are led to what the school calls a “restroom.” You can’t think, but you can read Alternian when you see it. This time, though, your head wasn’t pounded to hell and back, so you can still see clearly, much to your dismay.  
There’s blood everywhere. So much that you’re not sure you have enough remaining actually inside you. You notice this at the exact moment you think you hear yourself ask for your moirail. Of course, Strider has heard of Kanaya, but he says he doesn’t know her. “Give me your fucking human phone, Strider, or I swear I’ll let myself bleed to death right fucking here.”  
You snatch the device from the human, dialing in the ten digits that will let you contact your moirail. You get a bit of blood on the screen, but that’s nothing compared to the wave of relief that hits you when Maryam picks up.  
“Hello? Might I ask who this is?”  
“K-Kanaya I-”  
“Karkat? Are you alright? Where are you?” The level of extreme concern in Kanaya’s voice actually makes you feel better, and you feel yourself relaxing.  
“Yeah… Makara decided to test his luck again. but I got a few scratches on him this time.”  
“But what about you?”  
“Just a few scratches here and there-” Strider snatches the device from you, speaking into it before you have time to say anything.  
“Karkat needs medical attention… yeah, he has scratches… there is indeed blood everywhere… we’re at the school. Bathroom B… okay, I’ll be sure to do that. Bye,” Strider hung up, slipping the device into his pocket.  
“What the fuck?” you cross your arms, scowling. “Dude, you were never going to tell her that you were badly fucking injured. Now lift up your sweater so I can ‘apply pressure to the bleeding areas.’” You do so, looking away. After a few minutes of that, there’s a knock on the door. “Yeah?” Dave said, keeping pressure on the three gashes on your abdomen. “Karkat in there?”  
You sit straighter, keeping your attention focused on the door. “Yeah,” Strider looks up as well. The door swings open, “well you know I really shouldn’t be in here-” she stops as soon as she sees you. “My gog, Karkat. What happened?” You begin to explain as Strider backs away to allow Maryam a view of your torn skin. Her eyes widened, “these are quite deep, Karkat. I cannot even see where they begin and end.”  
You ask if removing your bloodsoaked sweater would help. She says it would, so the article of clothing ends up in a wet pile a few feet away as your wounds were being observed. You think you meet Strider’s eye as your moirail tightly wraps bandages around your midsection. You wince and look away as a bandage rubs against one of the open cuts, and, after the most painful of the scratches are dealt with, Kanaya carefully cleans and bandages up the more minor ones on your arms and neck.  
She hugs you afterward. “Stay out of trouble, okay?” Maryam says into your ear. You nod, holding her to you for a few seconds before letting her stand. “Thanks, Kan,” you look at your now-bandaged arms before looking back up, “really appreciate it.” The jadeblood smiles and picks up your sweater before exiting the bathroom, saying that she’ll wash and repair it. You nod, turning back to the human. “The fuck are you looking at?” you snap, slowly standing.  
The muscles in your abdomen would be all out of whack for a few days, but it was better than being dead. And to make the situation even more strange, you had a possible kismesis, but you’d have to wait three days until you knew for sure. You pulled your shirt down to cover the bandaging, giving one last scowl to Strider before leaving the building and heading back to your hive.  
Of course, Kanaya is there, straightening out your things and chatting with your lusus. You can’t help but smile a bit at her efforts. “I see you’ve found my hive. Again. Find anything interesting?” you instinctively switch back to your default tongue, Alternian, letting the familiar hisses and clicks out.  
Your moirail responds in kind, stating that she hadn’t found anything groundbreaking except a new book on the floor. You walk over and pick the hardcover up, inspecting it. It was the book you’d asked Maryam for only a few days ago, brand new and on your floor. You immediately click out a thanks before turning to the first page and quickly taking in the text. “Would you like me to read some of it to you?” the jadeblood doesn’t turn towards you to speak, instead focusing on her task of cleaning the various electronic devices in your hive.  
“Will you?” your moirail looks up, toward you. She was far better at reading English than you, and you find yourself constantly having to reread things on the damn tests in your damn English class. “Of course,” Kanaya sets down your husktop and sits down on a pile she had crafted of thousands of pieces of fabric. It was actually a quite comfortable pile, and you walk over to sit beside the other troll, handing her the book. “You ready?” You nod, leaning in to read over the jadeblood’s shoulder as she begins.  
“Who am I?” your moirail begins, making sure to pronounce each word slowly, so you could keep up reading with her, “And how, I wonder, will this story end? The sun has come up and I am sitting by a window that is foggy with the breath of life gone by…” The troll continues, leaving you to quickly lose the page. You close your eyes, leaning against the pile in hopes to fall asleep, but, as per usual, the story is just too lovely to fall asleep to. After a long while, you hear Kanaya yawn, continuing the story drowsily. “For at that moment, the world is full of wonder as I feel her fingers reach for the buttons on my shirt and slowly, ever so slowly, begin to undo them one by one. The end,” she closed the book and set it down next to the pile, curling up as if to fall asleep.  
“Thanks, Kan,” you yawn, beginning to drift into sleep yourself, “really appreciate it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The internet is a strange place full of strange theories. This human school’s server, for example. Someone in the past had decided that it would be a great idea to create a shitty little website for the school that some dumbasses could post gossip and shit on.  
Of course, when you first laid eyes on the atrocity, you immediately had to hack and recode practically the entire thing, just so your thinkpan wouldn’t melt out of your ears every time you checked the domain. The only feature that might give you away were the swarm of tiny pixelated bees that followed the cursor around everywhere.  
On your most recent viewing, there had been pictures and ships everywhere. Apparently, Nepeta’d found the website and convinced someone to giver her an editing password. Now even you could do that. Of course, you didn’t need to.  
You’d refused to attend the hellhole today, claiming that you’d rather not be scratched and bitten on what the humans call Monday. You’d have cuts for weeks. But then again, so would he. Long minutes of thinking had determined that you wouldn’t attend the human school on Mondays. You’d just get the work off of someone and be done with it, and, while you’re at it, lift the Pesterchum/ Trollian ban.  
This school’s website was extremely useful in dire situations such as these. Unfortunately, Aradia had made you build up a cyberwall even you couldn’t break around the section of the site with rules and grades.  
Please enter password >______  
You’d have to ask. Hopefully, the maroonblooded troll would comply, given your noble goals. You click the F1 key, opening Trollian. You wait a moment before double-tapping on Aradia’s trolltag. She’d probably be attending hellhole high, and wouldn’t be able to answer. And so you decide fuck it and that you’d troll her anyway.  
twinArmageddons (TA) began trolling apocalypseArisen (AA) at 11:38  
TA: aa ii beliieve ii have found a noble enough cau2e for you two have two giive me the pa22word  
AA: this reas0n being  
TA: the ban on trolliian mu2t bee removed for the good of everyone  
AA: hm…  
AA: i still d0nt see why this is a truly n0ble g0al 0_0  
TA: dammiit aa  
TA: ii2 there any way ii could ediit the 2iite wiithout the pa22word?  
AA: id have t0 c0me and type the passw0rd in myself  
AA: and s0meh0w i d0ubt 0ur lusii w0uld be alright with that 0_0  
TA: can you a2k your lu2u2?  
TA: iim 2ure miine wouldnt giive two 2hiit2  
AA: shes n0t here at the m0ment  
AA: but i guess i c0uld write a n0te explaining my absence  
TA: you remember the way two my hiive?  
AA: 0f c0urse!  
AA: ive 0nly been t0 y0ur hive a hundred times 0_0  
TA: you raii2e a good poiint  
TA: 2ee you 2oon then?  
AA: see y0u s00n  


You double check that Bicyclops is safely chained to the roof and that the mind honey is securely wired up to everything. Latest copies of Game Grub are packed into their box, and you can see a little bit of the floor between red and blue wires. AA’d probably be fine as long as she didn’t accidentally eat the mind honey.  
You’ve warned her many times to NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES EAT THE MIND HONEY, and, so far, she’s heeded your advice. You’d hate it if either of you were hurt because of the honey.  
All you could do now was wait for the maroonblood to arrive.  
You go to the roof of your hive with a bowl of mind honey, feeding it to your lusus. Mind honey’s the only thing keeping him from demolishing the hive and anything around it. Much like your ancestor, you’ve heard.  
The phenomenon humans call rain begins to occur, leaving you soaked to the bone within the minute. You rush back inside, becoming aware of the oncoming storm that crept over the horizon. 

~*~*~

The entirety of Sollux’s hive became filled with the sound of your whistling and foot-tapping. You’d first heard the tune you were whistling when you were watching a show first recommended by a red and white website, during the introduction of Death. You’d been replaying it in your head for the past half hour, using it as a distraction.  
But you couldn’t see what you so desperately needed to distract yourself from. You’d been to Sollux’s hive many times before. Still whistling to yourself, you click open your friend’s husktop, thinking a moment before remembering the password and typing it in. You haven’t read Alternian for an extremely long time, but the knowledge of your first language will always be buried in the back of your mind.  
Immediately, the school website popped up, and you continue on to the portion of the website containing grades, as well as other things. You tilt the screen up slightly, keeping the keyboard out of the camera’s range of vision. The six-digit password was soon entered, and you stand up, making sure not to trip over any wires as you lean against the wall, letting some hair fall over your eyes.  
Almost unconsciously, the tune of O’ Death began to slip past your lips, the already near-silent words completely drowned out by the sounds of closing doors and beings descending stairs. Even more so by the cascade of “oof”s and crashes that followed. Last time you had visited, you’d warned Sollux not to run down the stairs. Apparently, the warning had slipped his mind.  
You hurry to the door that leads to the stairwell, the notes you sang becoming more uneven than before. Sollux sat at the base of the stairway, grumbling and rubbing his temples, probably trying to ease a major headache. You crouch down to his level, using the tips of your fingers to lift his chin; you had to see how bad Sollux had hurt himself.  
The goldenblooded troll had split his lip, and there were occasional cuts and sickly colored bruises on his arms. You click your tongue, looking the injuries over. There was nothing too major, but Sollux quite frankly looked like hell anyways. Translucent yellow liquid stained his face in smudges and streaks, and his pulse hammered beneath your fingers. “G-godammit, AA. Did I fall down the stairs again?” His lisp was quite prominent throughout the sentence, and you feel the corners of your mouth pull up into the beginnings of a smile.  
“I did warn you about the stairs, didn’t I?” you breathe a laugh, biting your lower lip and helping Sollux to his feet. “I put the password in already, in case you were wondering,” you add, just remembering that fact yourself. He looks confused for a moment, but soon deciphers your sentence. “Right. Then we can get all this damn blood off me.” You nod, noticing a slight shaking in his knees. You wrap an arm around Sollux’s waist, assisting him in the trek to his husktop.  
“Thanks, AA.” As he sat down in front of his device, you could tell that he was tempted to rearrange everything there, but you were looking over the chair, at the screen. Sollux had the ability to mess up the page completely, and you’d be able to nothing about it, but, for some reason, he was hesitating. Instead, he did exactly what he said he would do: just update the Trollian/Pesterchum rules a bit, then log off of the website.  
“Mind if I sit?” you inquire. Standing and leaning was getting quite uncomfortable. Sollux shrugs and holds you to him after you take a seat on his lap. There was a beeping sound, and Sollux sighs and clicks open Trollian, since someone had decided to message him. You swat his hands away from the keyboard, checking yourself. It was Feferi, asking for something or other. You spin around so you’re facing Sollux, letting him type a reply without your needing to look.  
You rest your head in the crook of his neck, keeping the goldenblood wrapped in your arms. As Sollux taps away on his keyboard, you hum the tune of the song that’s been stuck in your head for the entirety of the day. The tapping noises cease and Sollux begins rubbing your back, though the beeping noises from the computer persisted. You take a breath, continuing your tune as stable as you can keep it. “How’ve you been, AA? It’s been a damn long time since you last came over.”  
All you can do is mumble things about exploring, death, and archaeology into his shoulder. You realize then that Sollux probably still had blood all over him. “We should probably get you cleaned up,” you mutter, sighing. “Yeah, probably…” the goldenblood makes no move as if to stand up though. Instead, he untucks the back of your shirt from your skirt and runs his hand up and down your bare back, sending sparks up your spine. You close your eyes, giving up completely on trying to sing your way out. You didn’t want to. 


	3. Chapter 3

cuttlefishCuller (CC) began trolling twinArmageddons (TA) at 12:34  
CC: S)(ello, Sollux!  
CC: Is t)(ere any c)(ance you could )(elp me wit)( some of t)(e work Ms. Glubbergills bassigned?  
TA: glubbergiill2?  
CC: Well I can’t remember )(er name!  
TA: iim actually a biit bu2y riight now fef  
TA: 2orry  
CC: It’s okay!  
CC: W)(ale is after sc)(ool okay?  
TA: actually ii thiink iit would bee be2t iif ii could help you tomorrow  
CC: W)(at you’re doing must be R----EALLY important, t)(en! 3XD  
CC: You preparing for t)(e visit back to Alternia?  
CC: …  
CC: Sollux?  
CC: 38(  
twinArmageddons is now an idle troll!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update in so long. Whoops.  
> Next chaper'll hopefully get a little longer c:

School's boring. You give a grand total of none of the shits about homework. No one's answering when you pester them, and it's starting to get to you. Maybe they didn't want to talk to you anymore? Even Jane's not answering, and she's usually your go-to when you need to vent about some of the shit you go through. Of course, you only vent when you're totally whacked, but Janey never seems to mind. You're staring at the ceiling in your room, swirling what remains of your... uhh... you can't really recall what is you're drinking, but it's hella fantastic.

Rose was probably doing her work or some goody-three-shoes crap like that. You know it unsettles her when you barge in drunk, so you stay where you are, casting the occasional sideways glance at your laptop, even though it's closed. Maybe it’d open if you looked at it long enough. You would usually call someone at this point, but there’s a rather large rift between what you’ll want to say and what you’ll be physically able. The lake would be cool, but it’s a hella long drive and you’re hella not up for that.

There’s a knock, but you’re not really sure where it’s coming from. Your door, maybe? Rose’s? The door swings open, and someone starts talking about some crap you’re not really listening to. Of course, you doubt whoever it is is talking to you, anyways. Who’d want to talk to the drunk girl.

Apparently someone, since your phone starts ringing. "Yo." You say, trying to stick to shorter words to reduce the chance of slurring. You wouldn't want to be too obviously drink in front of a stranger. "Uhh... is this Roxy?"

The voice on the other end of the line wavers, like whoever it is is nervous as fuck. "You've got 'er." You smile, though you know they can't see you. Might as well be polite.

"Well, hi Roxy." You could hear the kid's grin through the phone, and, if you weren't currently under the influence of adult juice, you'd probably find it unnerving. But nope; you speak to this kid like you saw him every day.

"Heyyo. Wassup, stranger?"

"Uh, nothing much. I just wanted to call to check in about that history project we were assigned. I mean, I guess I've never talked to you at all before now, but-"

Dude. Chill. I can totally sense your nervoushness from, like, all the way where I'm sittin'. Relax and start over."

You hear the kid clear their throat, and start again, speaking more clearly this time. Thank god. By the end of his spiel, you are feeling thoroughly sobered up.

"Yeah. And what was your name, again? Totally slipped my mind if you'd already told me." You can't help but put the phone on speaker just for the purpose of being able to properly twiddle your thumbs.

"Oh, shit, s-sorry, I never mentioned my name. It's John. Egbert."

"Cool name you got there, Johnny. So when ya wanna get to work on that project?" No one ever calls you. You don't even know how John got your personal number. Maybe from one of the Strider's. Who knows.

"I was thinking, maybe we could meet up tomorrow? If that's alright with you." Immediately you glance at the calendar in the corner of the living room. Doesn't look like you've got anything planned.

The idea of meeting up with this kid kind of excited you, actually, though you don't exactly know why.

"Mhm. Sounds good with me. Wanna come over to my place? Or do you wanna do yours, or...?"

"Your place sounds great. See you tomorrow?"

"See ya tomorrow, Egderp."

You hang up, having completely forgotten about the person at the front door. Shit. You hoped they were still there. Sure enough, there was a nice looking troll girl in front of the door, typing something into an oddly shaped screen. She sort of jumped when you cleared your throat.

"Oh! Hello there, Roxy, is it?"

"Mhm. That's me. Whaddya need?"

"Just to speak with your sister, if she's not otherwise occupied."

"Nah. I just think she's readin' or something. C'mon in. She's up the stairs, second door on your left. The purple one. Can't miss it."

After you'd lead the red-skirted girl on her way, you're feeling pretty fuckin' satisfied with the day's accomplishments.

You'd even done some school stuff. This is a marvelous day. In fact, a day full of this much progress definitely deserved a nice, cold glass of... fuck. You're supposed to be working in sobering up. No more celebration drinks for you. No matter how tempting that bloodred bottle's looking...

And then, you wake up on the couch, with some dark haired kid with glasses looking down at you.

"Woah, what the fuck." You rub your eyes, groaning at a sudden, random pain in your stomach. You're too tired to possibly ask yourself why there was this total stranger in your house.

"Roxy? Are you alright? Rose said you just sort of passed out in the kitchen yesterday. She didn't tell me why, though. D-do you need anything?"

"Oh. Oh, shit," you immediately check yourself for glass cuts, automatically assuming that you'd gotten a bit too much to drink. The idea that you may need to go to the bathroom and/or get an Advil for the cramp never even passed through your head.

"Huh? Are you okay?"

"Who're you, again? Passing out and stuff musta fudged with my memory a little."

"John. I did tell you I was coming over, right?"

"Oh, right. Right. Sorry, Egderp. We were gonna work on that... history project, right?"

"Y-yeah. But only if you're sure you're okay."

"I'm absolutely positively sure I'm not gonna die or anything."

Egderp laughed, "If you say so," and the two of you begin to work on the coolest school shit ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame testing and lack of motivation for my lack of updates on anything.  
> But Dirkjake.

The day was bright. Especially if you would go outdoors. Due to what you consider to be enjoyment, you’ve spent the past ten hours watching every episode of My Little Pony ever to exist. After you finished, though, you began crafting some sick beats. You could feel the bass through the floorboards and up your spine, leaving the pounding sound you enjoy so much ringing in your ears.  


Dave had decided to go to school, so you had the house to yourself for at least another hour, due to the fact that he had begun staying twenty minutes after school every day since Friday. You doubted the air around you would mind you walking around shirtless for eleven hours, so you do so. You’re in the process of fixing the tempo when there are some loud knocks on the front door.  


You pause the track and head downstairs, opening the door to a human pacing your steps and muttering. “Can I help you?” you inquire, catching the boy’s attention. As he looks up, the tips of his ears turn a bright red. He angles his head away from you, rectangular glasses nearly falling off as he does so. You barely hear what he says next.  


“Dude, I can’t hear a word you’re saying. Speak up.” You eye the human, trying to pinpoint exactly why he looks familiar. You realize just as he begins to speak: school, of course. You were in a few classes with this kid. You just couldn’t quite remember his name.  


“Your music’s quite loud. If you could play it a bit softer, that would be lovely,” Jake mumbles, still staring at his toes. You could barely hear the sentence, but you suppose it was good enough. “I’ll think about it,” you say plainly, blinking behind your shades. You still can’t remember the kid’s name, and it’s beginning to bother you. The dark-haired male clearly seems unsatisfied, but he sighs and mutters "alright," still remaining on your porch.  


After a while, you can physically feel awkwardness in the air between the two of you. It takes you just that amount of time, though, to remember his name. "Uhm, you need anything else?" You cross your arms, looking Jake-- you remember that as his name-- up and down, causing the kid's face to become an even brighter shade. You smirk and chuckle, "see somethin' you like, English?"  


"N-no. J-just keep the m-music down, o-okay?" You found it both hilarious and and adorable how flustered Jake was.  


"I said I'd think about it. Unless you're planning on speeding up my decision, that is." You keep your smirk plastered on your face, tapping your foot. English was chewing on his lip, trying to come up with an excuse to leave. "By the way," you raise an eyebrow, "shouldn't you be in school?"  


"W-well, I could ask the same thing to you, m-mister Strider."  


"Meh. Feelin' sick today."  


"You seem perfectly fine."  


"You never answered my question. It's Tuesday. Go to school. Or home. Or whatever."  


"Grandpa'd bloody murder me if he found out I wasn't at school. Which means I've nowhere to go." He shrugged, still watching his feet and seeming surprised that you were still bothering to talk to him.  


"I guess you can chill at my place until school gets out, if you want. Lil' bro wouldn't mind. He's been gettin' home late anyways." You shrug back, trying to find something other than emerald green eyes or ridiculously short khakis to focus on.  


"What do you even have to do, in there?" Jake peeked through your window and most likely saw how overly cluttered your house was. You and Dave still knew exactly where everything was, no matter how messy the place got.  


"I've got Indiana Jones, music, orange soda, and a fuckton of katanas. If any of that interests you."  


You could see English perk up when you mentioned Indiana Jones, so you smirk and open the door for him to enter. "Make sure to watch your step. And don't open the refrigerator. You might be impaled." Jake gives you a weird look, but shrugs it off soon after, taking another glance past you and into the house. “May I come in?”  


"'Course. The door's already open. Watch out for tripwires. Those aren't meant for you."  


"So your house is boobytrapped?"  


"To put it technically, yes. The house is in fact boobytrapped. Nothing too dangerous, though." You shrug as Jake takes an overly cautious step through the front door. “Only a few easily dodgeable flying swords here and there.”  


“Wait, flying what?”  


“Nothing really. C’mon,” you lead him into the kitchen, and we're about to ask if he wanted anything, before he spoke. “Wait… if you keep swords in the refrigerator, where do you keep food so that it's cold?”  


“Freezer.”  


“Doesn't soda explode in the freezer?”  


“Broken freezer,” you deadpan. Since no one has bothered to call someone to fix the freezer, it's sort of been functioning like a refrigerator. Weird that you’ve never really noticed. Whoops. “Want anything from the magical broken freezer-fridge?”  


“Uhh… might you have a Sprite you'd be willing to give me?”  


“What do you think this is? Anarchy? Of course we have Sprite. No one in the house ever drinks it, but we have it,” you rolled your eyes, and your statement excites a small laugh from Jake, which brightened your entire day a little. You realized after a moment that you still had to get the soda, so you did that as quick as you could, handing English the beverage, which was dripping from the condensation on the outside, “So, Indiana Jones?”  


“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have listened to the entire soundtrack of Indiana Jones while writing this whoops


End file.
